


Into Eternity

by PheasantSnow



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Frigga's Legacy, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Mother and Son, Why Did I Write This?, my feels are dying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:26:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PheasantSnow/pseuds/PheasantSnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the river flowed never ending, on its watery wings that soared over the mouth of eternity, a mourning husband sent his cherished wife to join her court amongst the stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into Eternity

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: FEELS AHEAD. This story is an SL/solo that I've written for an RP account after watching Thor 2. It takes off from the events of the movie, then will branch off into tangents #IDONTEVENKNOW. Fair warning, I will be following a lot of headcanons for the next few parts and bend the mythos a lil' bit for the sake of it. 
> 
> But heck. It's a fic. 
> 
> Many, many, MANY thanks to C & N for setting me on this crazy course. We watched that darn movie THREE TIMES already and it still never gets old. Without those girls, my feels would have still been intact.
> 
> And yes, this song killed me.

  
**_Into Eternity_ **

\----------------------------

_Part 0._

Frigga was dead.

It was with no small amount of valor that she faced an enemy she knew she could not defeat, but her Asgardian blood held true as it served her a formidable armor against fear. She mocked, she taunted, and with a grace unfazed she bid her time dancing around death that someone else may live. In the end, however, as it was inevitable, Thor's gallant efforts were in vain, and Oðin could only cradle her helplessly in his arms as she succumbed to the wrath of an elvish blade.

It was days later that her funeral would come to a close.

Dressed in the regala of the warrior that she was in life, with a sword clasped by her bosom, she lay amongst a halo of flowers as her ship sailed across the Great River to await her pyre. Oðin hesitated, pausing awhile to swallow his sorrows and say his goodbyes he was reluctant to utter. But as it was his right as her king to send his loyal subject to her to rest, he finally relented under the burden of his duty, and the love he could no longer contain within his ailing heart.

As the river flowed never ending, on its watery wings that soared over the mouth of eternity, a mourning husband sent his cherished wife to join her court amongst the stars.

The hymns of homage sang through the Nine Realms reaching across the vast oceans of the universe on the sails of Njörðr’s ships. The Worlds were veiled in mourning; distant kingdoms listened as the wind carried word of her passing. In commemoration, Æsir, Vanir, and all creatures under the Great Arch turned their heads to Asgard, setting tributes to float free into the night and light the skies in beautiful, somber starlight.

But veneration echoed none so strongly as within the hearts of her people to whom she was so beloved, whose tears were both of sadness and of celebration that the faithful dead, lead by their valiant queen, were finally coming home.

Joy to all but one.

At the news of his mother’s death, the grief that ravaged Loki’s heart was far more resonant than any measure of sacred lament. In the vacuum that followed, uncontrollable rage sliced through the very veins that held him together, the very core of him devastated beyond reckoning. His anguish -- its near unbearable weight -- bore down on his soul that it cracked and broke, turning his heart into a molten flame that seethed and spat a fury he had never known.

He had lost everything in a breath, his world laid to waste by a few clipped words not even Thor had the courtesy to tell him himself; words that succinctly justified Odin’s own spite that brought Loki’s own fears to the precarious fore.

Fulfil his birthright to die, or to live without those he loved.

Now Frigga was gone. The mother he denied, but whose magnanimous heart understood.

She called him her _son_.

He no longer had anything to lose.

\---

_tbc._


End file.
